Chapter Seventy-Nine: A String of Misfortunes

The Daoist stood with his hands behind his back, while Shu Yunyan was positioned just slightly behind him. This was no coincidence, but a deliberate arrangement by Lin Ze. He angled his body subtly, quietly using his shoulder to block her from advancing further, creating such a scene.

There was no other way; lacking true strength, he had to rely on these small tactics. He needed to seize every opportunity to subtly influence her, only then could he hope to gain even a semblance of equal footing in their conversation. If he dutifully followed behind, Shu Yunyan would hardly notice him when speaking, inevitably treating him with less regard. By then, reclaiming initiative would become exceedingly difficult.

The two stood atop the slope, silently watching Yang Mu practice swordplay amid the bamboo grove.

Lin Ze said nothing. He believed Shu Yunyan would discern what he intended to convey.

Sure enough, as the youth’s movements grew ever more fluid, a hint of surprise flickered in the woman’s eyes. She turned to fix her gaze on Lin Ze and spoke slowly, “The Innate Moonlight Sword Scripture has reached the minor achievement stage.”

Though Shu Yunyan’s expression barely changed, remaining as cool and serene as ever, this was merely a habit born of long solitude in her cave, not a reflection of her inner state. Quite the opposite, in fact—her heart was now deeply shaken.

The technique Yang Mu used was the secret art of the Double Moon Cavern, its intricacies clearer to her than to anyone. In her original estimation, for Yang Mu to grasp the innate technique in just over two months was already remarkable; as for the sword scripture and true fire, she had assumed she would need to personally instruct him, which was why she had chosen this moment to visit.

It was not entirely as Lin Ze imagined, that she simply wished for her disciple to lean towards the Double Moon Cavern. What she now witnessed defied explanation by mere talent. To master a high-grade technique without guidance—she herself could not have done so, let alone others.

She looked to Lin Ze, seeking an explanation.

“In terms of cultivation, perhaps you are slightly superior, I am somewhat lacking,” Lin Ze replied shamelessly, his face calm.

“But when it comes to teaching disciples, you cannot compare to me.”

No matter how wise a master, it is impossible to truly stand in a disciple’s shoes and understand their challenges in cultivation, as every person’s mind and constitution differ, and the obstacles they face are unique.

But Lin Ze could.

He understood Yang Mu’s difficulties in practicing the Moonlight Sword Scripture even better than Yang Mu himself, and for three years, no less.

To Yang Mu, it seemed his master seldom concerned himself with his cultivation, offering only occasional guidance. Yet those few simple words often saved him months of effort; from there, only diligence was required.

Often, correct direction is more important than hard work.

Hearing this, Shu Yunyan nodded unconsciously. If she were the one instructing, she could not guarantee such striking results in so short a time.

Yet…

A question suddenly occurred to her. She looked at the Daoist’s back and asked softly, “Did you read the jade slip?”

Her voice was clear and pleasant.

Lin Ze felt a cold sweat break out on his back.

Almost instantly, he sensed something akin to spiritual awareness gently enveloping him, its touch as light as gauze, causing one to relax unwittingly.

Lin Ze’s skin tightened; he narrowed his eyes and replied, “No.”

The woman stepped closer, her exquisitely beautiful face drawing near, as if to observe his slightest facial changes.

Lin Ze could feel her subtle breath on his neck and caught a faint fragrance, but there was nothing romantic about it—it felt more like being watched by a fierce beast. He instinctively clenched his fists, feeling helpless.

No matter how many small tricks, before absolute strength they were insufficient.

This tense situation lasted for over ten breaths.

Finally, Shu Yunyan withdrew, lowering her head in confusion and murmuring, “So it’s true.”

Of course it was true. Lin Ze rolled his eyes; those three techniques he had learned from the simulator, so why would he need her jade slip?

Calming himself, he turned and said, “The highest art of teaching disciples lies not in the techniques themselves, but in the disciple.”

“…”

Shu Yunyan looked at him quietly. “That’s a lie.”

She withdrew the heart-searching technique.

This minor art could not truly probe someone’s heart; or rather, except for some vicious soul-searching methods, such a technique didn’t really exist. But it could judge the truth of words.

Her master had once warned her not to use it lightly, lest it provoke disputes—but when it concerned the foundation of the Double Moon Cavern, she could not remain calm.

When Shu Yunyan handed the jade slip to Lin Ze, she had never imagined someone would open another’s belongings without permission. Fortunately, he was a good man; she must be more cautious next time.

As for Lin Ze, though he didn’t know the heart-searching technique, he could guess well enough. Yet he did not become angry.

Regardless of whether he could win a fight, he hadn’t read the jade slip, but had indeed learned the techniques, even reaching mastery.

He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze elsewhere, somewhat guilty. “Well, does he still need to return to the Double Moon Cavern?”

“Of course,” Shu Yunyan insisted, though her tone lacked conviction. “At least to visit.”

She realized she had lost even her last advantage. No wonder he was an East Mountain Sect cultivator; just as her master had said, truly formidable.

“Now is the time for focused cultivation…” Lin Ze nodded, his gaze sincere. “Next time, definitely.”

With that, he adopted a guest-sending posture.

Shu Yunyan left in a daze, took a few steps, then paused and looked back at Lin Ze in confusion. “Demon?”

Demon? What demon…

Lin Ze pursed his lips and looked up, his expression freezing.

At the foot of the slope, a regal white fox was licking its paw. Seeing Lin Ze look over, a hint of amusement flashed in its eyes as it lazily asked, “What are you doing here all alone?”

Lin Ze did not answer, his gaze fixed on the fox’s neck, his face growing grim.

He cursed inwardly—couldn’t Qin be a bit more reliable?

The white fox lowered its paw and slowly ascended the slope, filling the air with demonic energy so thick it was suffocating.

This was the aura of a golden core great demon.

After so long, always crouched by the spirit spring, it had actually regained its original strength.

“Is it yours?” Shu Yunyan asked.

“Does it look like mine?” Lin Ze’s hand, hidden in his wide sleeve, was already covered in black demon flames.

The white fox raised its head slightly, its smile sly. “Muttering to yourself? Still trying to play dumb?”

“I told you—I will not forget what happened that day.”

Seeing Lin Ze’s stunned face, the fox stepped forward again, feeling exceedingly pleased.

It wouldn’t really kill him.

But such a rare opportunity demanded it teach him a lesson.

Especially that calm expression, which had always irritated the fox; seeing the Daoist show fear was quite entertaining.

Lin Ze, however, turned to Shu Yunyan.

He had always sensed something odd, but could never pinpoint it.

Until the fox reminded him just now.

Muttering to himself…

Only then did he realize—Shu Yunyan was at least a golden core cultivator; the white fox had no reason to ignore her.

Unless, it couldn’t see her.